


Five Times Skye's Heart Rate Increased (And It Was All Coulson's Fault)

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Being cute while having sex, Being funny while having sex, Cunnilingus, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Kissing, Office Sex, Skye and Coulson have the greatest sex life, having fun with the heart rate thingy why not, the usual Skye and Coulson stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 08:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2574146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If they are going to keep doing this Skye should really turn the alarm off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Skye's Heart Rate Increased (And It Was All Coulson's Fault)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hamsterfactor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamsterfactor/gifts).



His hand splayed under her ribcage as he draws her to him wordlessly, as he backs up against the desk.

And she is about to kiss him, isn't she. About to kiss Coulson, _Director_ Coulson.

She likes the way his hand rests there, the restrained energy of it. He had grabbed her for a moment on impulse and then loosened the grip immediately, thinking better of it, fearing Skye might not like it. She still followed those fingers, wanted to follow, followed him back to his desk until he was pressed against the edge.

His hands are warm, she notices that.

Or maybe it's warm in the office, now she's not quite sure.

Or maybe – 

How did this start? Why did he pull her against him? She knows she wants to kiss him. Which is strange if she thinks about it, but not so strange if she thinks some more. It's Coulson, of course she wants to kiss him.

His hand.

Skye feels every nerve ending in her body like a tiny, minuscule match being lit. There's no mistaking that feeling. There is definitely some tingling all over. And it has been a while since Skye has felt tingling _all over_. She is not going to pretend it hasn't been a while. Coulson's hand hesitating over the shape of her hipbone is the greatest moment of intimacy she has had in months, maybe a year.

They are so close she can smell the morning coffee in his breath, maybe toothpaste, not unpleasant. She doesn't care, it's been a long time.

They are so close and she kind of feels it, the moment before the moment before she kisses him. She wants that – him touching her like this, and her about to kiss him. Neither of them with a clear understanding of what precipitated it – they were designing an op, they were just talking like they do every day, over files, it was all as professional as they get – other than the fact that they both want it.

And then.

 _Beep._ Then a softer _beep_.

"What is that?" Coulson asks, softly, but unable to tear his eyes from Skye.

That's a nice feeling, the idea that Coulson can't stop looking at her, it's nice but it's not helping the beeping sound coming from her wrist.

She lifts her hand. She can't stop looking into his stupid beautiful eyes either.

"It's my heart rate... thingy," she explains. His eyes soften. "I have an alarm set for whenever I go over 90."

She kind of remembers why she is keeping track of her heart rate in the first place. Why intimacy – ever a small bit like this – was the further thing from her mind, why she is dangerous and must be controlled. _Monitored_. She remembers that word. 

"Skye."

Yeah that tone of voice isn't helping either. She needs to – 

"I need to keep an eye on it," she tells him. "So I won't get... like my father."

She feels those fingers around her waist twitch for a moment.

"You're not like your father."

And though it means something that he says it, Coulson more than anyone else, because he gets it better than anyone else, it also means nothing right now. She shrugs. She shrugs the words away and wants to go back to the moment where it was just his trembling hands almost not daring to touch her but daring anyway, and his breath in her face, coffee and toothpaste, and her heart in her mouth. But it's more complicated than that.

"You were there," she says, looking away for a moment. "I almost killed two people. What I did to him..."

"You were trying to –"

"Heard that before."

Even though he probably has a lot more to say about that – he has said a lot on the subject already, and it was comforting, but now Skye needs to do this on her own – she can see him make the effort to shut up. And he does.

"What do you need?" he asks instead.

She looks at her wrist. 

"I need to know I can do this. Before I do _this_."

Coulson nods and his hands finally drops away from her body. She misses the touch immediately, misses a certain idea that she could do normal things (or semi-normal, he is still Coulson after all) with no consequences. She turns the alarm off, even though she can still feel her heart everywhere, in her throat, in the tips of her fingers. 

"I think I need to leave this room, right now," she tells Coulson, giving him an apologetic smile.

He nods again.

Skye steps away from him. Her heartbeat slows down after a couple of moments, as she walks away, and then it doesn't, but then it's different, it's just fear.

 

 

**ii.**

"Let's try this," he says.

He kisses her cheek. Skye's back goes very rigid, sitting up on her bunk, Coulson sitting next to her. The position is not the most comfortable but it works anyway. They were meant to come to a resolution today and she likes the one Coulson offers: a kiss on the cheek to start with.

"We're good," she says. "Sixty-one."

He clasps her arm in his hands and brings it to his mouth, kissing the senstive skin of her forearm, right up her elbow. Skye feels it everywhere. Like, really _every_ where.

"Sixty-eight," she says and wow it's not often that you get to have empirical proof that you want to sleep with a guy. This is new for Skye.

"Interesting."

Coulson smiles at her, warm and open, and he stays a moment like that, her arm in his hands, waiting for a sign, something in her eyes maybe. She wants to kiss him already. She wants to do more than kiss him. She wants to be careful. It's too easy for her to feel control staring to slip away. She has to be strict with this. She can't risk hurting someone again.

"It's okay," Coulson says, feeling her stiffness, pressing one single sweet kiss into the curve of her neck.

She holds her breath.

They have talked about this for so long. By omission, with adult words, in his office, after a particularly bad mission. She has put it off for so long, finding excuses not to start this. So long after they've both said they wanted it. It's a big thing for Coulson as well, to get this in the open, no matter how much better he is now in his own way he also needs to be constantly monitored.

"Seventy-three," she breathes out.

She has reasons, reasons not excuses.

"You want me to stop?" he asks, smiling with just a little effort.

Skye lifts her fingers to his mouth. He kisses them. She doesn't want him to stop. So much she _doesn't_ and that's a problem.

He is so close. Like that time in his office weeks ago she can almost taste it, the moment before the moment. She only has to shift on her bed, lean into it just a bit and – 

_Beep_. And then _beep_.

"Ninety-eight," Coulson says, holding her wrist between his fingers.

He has an inquiring look, but he lets her call it again this time.

"I don't care," Skye says, and she kisses him.

 

 

**iii.**

"Look, sixty-three," she says, showing him the watch. "It's under control."

Coulson frowns.

"I'm not sure I feel cheered up by the idea of you being able to keep your heart rate down while I pleasure you."

"Pleasure me?" she says, raising an eyebrow. "Ugh, Coulson. Can't you put it in a less awful, more _better_ way?"

He brings his mouth close to her ear. " _While I fuck you with my fingers_. Is that better?" he whispers.

Much better, she thinks, as his thumb brushes against her clit.

Skye is not sure how they ended up like this, on the new couch in his office, in this silly position, with this silly desperate hurry. They had been taking things slow – so slow. Skye is not complaining, she didn't think slow was on the cards for her and guys, like, ever. It was a nice change, even though in part it was by necessity, their carefulness. But she enjoyed it. Fooling around in his office. But somehow tonight they have allowed themselves go a step further than usual – further than the usual gentle frustation and hopeful goodbyes.

It had started like that, Skye being careful with her self, and Coulson being extra careful for the both of them. She is not scared of him and he is not scared of her so it kind of balances out in the way they are learning not to be scared of themselves, with each maddeningly slow kiss. Which is how the night had started, innocent enough for them.

But then it kind of escalated and now she has her knees at each side of him and Coulson has fumbled with her belt and he has slipped his hand into her pants and under her underwear like they are two teenagers in an afterschool date, that kind of happy abandon even though it's a really uncomfortable, awkward position. Sure, the door is locked, but that doesn't mean much in the way of privacy, Mr Director of SHIELD.

"Sixty-five," she says. "I've got this."

Coulson groans, bucking his hips, pressing his erection against the inside of her thigh. Skye is teasing him at this point. Something tells her that he can stand it. She wraps her fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. Eyes on the prize but also on her watch. Sixty-six even with the way Coulson is twisting his index into her. She is good.

"Skye..." he calls.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shakes his head. But there is something, the beginning of a smirk, in his lips. "Skye."

Something is happening. She can feel it.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

Coulson presses that smirk against the hollow of her neck. "Skye, Skye. _Skye_."

Each time it's different and each time it's absolutely effective.

"Stop it," she says, and she sort of means it except she is smiling.

"I'm not doing anything," he says, the bastard, while kissing a line along her shoulder. "I'm not doing anything, really... Skye."

She closes her eyes.

 _Beep_.

"That's –"

 _Beep_. Like an accusation. Skye feels the heat of a blush across her cheeks.

"That's just cheating," she tells Coulson, trying to look dignified.

 

 

**iv.**

_Beep._

_Beep._

Coulson pulls that hot mouth of his away. Skye groans, a choked up whimper when she can no longer feel his tongue inside her, scraping her fingernails against his scalp in protest. He chuckles against the top her thigh.

"Damnit," he says. "You need to take that thing off."

"Sorry. I forgot."

She is not really worried about control these days – specially in here, specially with Coulson. It's just the habit.

They both sit up in his bed.

Now she runs her fingers through his hair, now a gentler gesture.

"I'm sorry. You were just being very good at what you were doing," she says, conciliatory, playful. Hopefully sexy.

Not that Coulson needs it, the conciliatory bit, judging from the smile he is giving Skye now, more like a fuck-me smirk than a smile, people would be scandalized if they knew, the kind of fuck-me smirks the Director of SHIELD can give a subordinate just seconds after he was between her legs eating her out. She is not about to give him more ammunition, after months of dancing carefully around each other, and each touch a hesitation, Coulson had abandoned himself to the role of the overconfident lover with a little too much ease. It has its advantages (that mouth and the hours Skye has already spent with her whole body curled around that mouth) but sometimes that smug smile... she'd really want to wipe it off him.

But then he wraps his hand gently around Skye's forearm and his eyes go that special kind of soft and it doesn't really matter that he is a smug smirking bastard sometimes.

He runs his thumb along the strap.

"Is this okay?" he asks, he asks if she is ready.

She nods and the fact that it is Coulson the one to open the clasp and slip the device off her wrist – slowly, because he gets it – means something.

"Thanks," she tells him. 

It means something when he dips his head to kiss the skin of her wrist, like it's some sort of religious act, like he is devoted, a light confessional kiss over the slight white marks from the strap, already disappearing.

Skye can feel her heart beating faster now. So much faster.

But that's okay, she's not scared of herself anymore, not here, not with him.

 

 

**v.**

There has always been something political between them, tangled in this thing between them, because as they watch the news announcing SHIELD is no longer a terrorist organization, the good news of their reinstatement among polite society so to speak this happens. There are certain folders on the top of the folders on his desk – the new directives for the Index, the new directives for a Welcome Wagon (official name, finally, and _you're welcome_ ).

"I love you," Coulson says, all casual, hands on her hips, an everyday occurrence. Not everyday, maybe, but it somehow feels like it, after all the false starts.

He puts his hand on the small of her back, drawing her to him. Skye is happy to follow that gesture, to press her body against him. She wants to hear it again, him saying that casually, she wants to keep the sting of sweet electricity running through her body forever. He tells her he loves her over the sound of the news announcing a new chapter for the intelligence community and he holds her and she holds him and she is kissing him. It's perfect, Skye thinks. 

And she feels it. Perfect.

 _Beep_ , _beep_. _Beep_.

Coulson pulls away, a questioning frown on his brow. It takes him a moment to remember that sound. It has been so long since he last heard it.

"I thought you got rid of that thing months ago," he says.

"I did," she says. "I found it in a drawer when I was moving my stuff to your room and I got curious to see how I was doing these days."

"And how are you doing these days?" Coulson asks, arm firm around her waist.

"I was doing quite well, thank you, until you opened your stupid mouth." Coulson arches an eyebrow, glancing around the room. "Until you opened your stupid mouth, _sir_."

Skye knows she gets away with this kind of crap because it makes Coulson smile. He's one to talk, anyway. 

"Skye..."

There's that again, the way he says it – it might be better than any I love you. It goes to her head and straight to her heart, straight between her legs, all at the same time. She needs to take the heart rate monitoring watch thingy off her arm right now. Right. Now.

"Yes?" she asks, distracted, unable to tear her gaze from his eyes.

Coulson seems amused and, underneath, something else.

"I'm really glad I don't have to wear one of those," he tells her. "The last few months would have been very... embarrassing."

Skye tilts her head, pulling away a bit. "I don't need your pity."

He chuckles and takes Skye's hand in his. He laces their fingers together and then presses her palm against his own chest, right above the heart.

It's racing, beating so fast, beating so hard it's like tiny earthquakes against Skye's hand.


End file.
